


The Tether

by Veail



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bamf Adrien, Bamf marinette, F/M, Mild Language, Protective Plagg (Miraculous Ladybug), Spooky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veail/pseuds/Veail
Summary: Plagg insists that there is balance but Adrien doesn’t see it. He also doesn’t want to look too deeply into it. He doesn’t really mind. There’s enough drama and showmanship in his civilian life to see him through at least seven of his nine lives. He needs more stardom like he needs a hole in his head.But unfortunately, balance there is and balance there will be.He is the yin to her yang, the cheese to her souffle, Plagg reminds him. His importance is just as absolute.Adrien doesn’t realise how absolute until later.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72
Collections: October 2020 - Dark





	The Tether

It’s a question that comes up again and again on the Ladyblog. Adrien ponders it from time to time but doesn’t really spare it much serious thought. It is what it is and there’s not much he can do about it. 

**ladybuns4eva @mmeevenas posted: So while Ladybug is out there kicking ass and taking names, what does Chat Noir bring to the table? #sidekicknoir**

And… yeah… he gets it. In a fight against an akuma he doesn’t really seem to do much other than get in the way – literally. But isn’t that his job? To leap; not without looking, but without caring of the consequence. Because his role is to keep the flak off Ladybug so that, at the end of the fight, she will be there to bring everything else back. 

Plagg insists that there is balance but Adrien doesn’t see it. He also doesn’t want to look too deeply into it. He doesn’t really mind. There’s enough drama and showmanship in his civilian life to see him through at least seven of his nine lives. He needs more stardom like he needs a hole in his head. 

But unfortunately, balance there is and balance there will be. 

He is the yin to her yang, the cheese to her souffle, Plagg reminds him. His importance is just as absolute. 

He doesn’t realise how absolute until later. 

… 

It’s midnight, almost at the end of the summer break, and the akuma haven’t let up in weeks. Chat sits, back to a chimney, on one of his favourite rooftops, while a swarm of ladybugs sweeps the latest devastation under the rug of Paris. With a tired sigh Ladybug flops down beside him and holds out her fist. 

“Pound it.” 

He raises his fist to hers and taps her knuckles with his own. It’s still early, his hopes are slightly raised, and when she gestures with her head to a neighbouring rooftop he beams. 

“I’ll be back, Kitty. I just need to recharge.” 

He waves her off with a flap of his wrist. He hadn’t used Cataclysm this time around and still had time to spare. Lately they’ve been spending more time together outside of akuma battles. It’s something that Adrien, with his lonely, cold prison of a home, really appreciates. Even if it’s just sitting staring out across Paris and talking. He’s there, she’s there, there’s fresh air and moonlight and space, so much space. He loves all of it. 

He holds his hand out, looking at the green cat print ring on his finger, and muses. His lady sits down next to him on her return and nudges him with her shoulder. He rolls with the movement and allows it to return him to her. “Euro for them?” she asks him, following the direction of his gaze. 

He shrugs and diverts. “Back to school soon.” 

She groans. “Don’t remind me. I’ve just got over last year.” He’s actually looking forward to it but he doesn’t tell her that. That’s just another way he’s weird and not like the average person. 

He bumps her back and grins when she throws a _faux_ annoyed look his way. “Could be worse.” 

“Oh?”

“Could be ‘BAC’s this year.” He laughs when she covers her eyes with her hands and groans again. 

It’s pretty obvious to them both that he’s in a pensive mood. She knows, and he knows she knows. She’s better at handling him now; something that’s come with a lot of trial and error. Instead of pressing him for answers, she settles back and looks out over the view. The silence settles between them like snowfall. It’s something peaceful and beautiful… and also something he finds it his sworn duty to tear up and shred whenever he’s able. He is destruction after all. 

“You ever wonder why you have more powers than me?” He asks, pressing the fingers of his right hand together so that he can feel the cool edge of the ring pressing back.

“You think?” she asks. 

He shrugs a little but barrels on. “I mean, we’re supposed to be two halves of a whole… and half tends to mean equal division yet you get healing, and lucky charms, the whole ‘ladybug plague of happiness and light’ thing,” he wiggles his fingers in the air to symbolise. She giggles. “And then there’s me with the ‘exterminate, exterminate’ destructo-chat power. I’m just saying, there’s not a lot of equality there.” 

She laughs. “Well, ‘Who’ville aside…” she waves her hand at him to silence his protests because come on, completely different pop reference there, and continues, “I think you’re plenty powerful.” 

He snorts. “I guess.” 

“Don’t guess, know.” 

“Alright, alright.” He stands up and stretches, then offers her a hand. She refuses, of course, but at least the offer was there. “First one to the Eiffel tower and back brings the snacks tomorrow?” 

“Pfft. Make it a challenge next time.” Her grin is fierce and bright in the darkness. He loves the spark she gets when she’s feeling competitive. 

She’s off. 

He’s about to follow but something catches his eye in the entryway. He stares for a moment but it’s just shadow; darkness that becomes something more than darkness the longer you look at it, a writhing, seething mass of black, wrapping over and under itself. A frisson of something runs up his spine and he blinks. 

An optical illusion. 

It’s darkness again. 

Up ahead Ladybug has stopped and is looking at him in concern. “Everything alright, Kitty.” 

He shakes his head, looks up and smiles. He’s jumping at shadows now. “Just didn’t want it to be too easy, M’lady.” He leaps the alley from a standing start and powers past her in three easy bounds. Her outraged shout follows him and he laughs. 

In the days to come he’ll look back on this as the last moment before the world went to hell. But, of course, by that point it will be far too late. 

…

The next morning he sleeps in, just because he can, and wakes to the stench of something unholy, which has died in his bed. When he opens his eyes Plagg has arranged three pieces of cheese on his pillow and is lying there, on his little rounded stomach, looking at him with the biggest shit-eating grin. “Good morning, Sunshine.” 

Adrien gives him the dead eyed stare that he’s perfected since Plagg came into his life. “I think I’d take a real cat over you. At least that way I’d only wake up with a butt in my face.” 

“That can be arranged.” Plagg says with a smug smile and buries his face into the closest piece of cheese. Adrien wonders if it’s possible for a god to drown himself in cheese. He’s pretty sure Plagg would be up to find out. 

“Thanks for that, Plagg.” He rolls out of bed and – just to spite the little demigod of destruction – he drops the comforter over him and heads off to shower and dress. 

When he wanders downstairs a short while later, it’s to find the main areas of the mansion empty; his breakfast is under a cloche on the dining table along with his ever-present tablet. After a quick check to make sure that, yes, his schedule is still empty for today, he takes his nutritionally sound but tasteless protein bar back to his room, flops into his computer chair and flicks on his computer to catch the morning news. There are no signs of any current akuma on the local news sites, nor on his akuma alert app. There is however a rundown of the akuma they’d fought last night and he half-listens to it while his thoughts meander a little. The news reporter calls Chat Noir a side-kick again and he winces. 

He rolls the ring around on his finger again. “Hey, Plagg.” 

“Eating. Call back later.” 

“I have a question.” 

“And I have a quest. To consume your body weight in cheese before noon.” 

Adrien snorts, “My body weight?” 

“I float, Kid. Not like I’m going to weigh enough to matter. Although, yeah.” Plagg’s voice turns thoughtful. “Maybe a skinny pre-teen model isn’t such a great choice either.” 

“Hey!” He’s well into his teenage years thank you very much! 

Plagg does the snigger snort which means he’s face first in cheese again, but his ears are swivelled in Adrien’s direction. It’s as much attention as Adrien’s going to get so he presses on. “Where’s my army?”

“Your what?” 

“You know…” Adrien leans back in his computer chair and throws his hands up into the air, waving them around dramatically. “Ladybug has the ladybugs, Hawkmoth has the black, glowy moths of doom, where’s _my_ army?”

There’s a beat of silence so strange that Adrien almost turns around. And then Plagg says, “you really wanna herd cats _that_ badly?” 

“What?”

Plagg floats up to hover in front of him. There’s cheese all over his face and Adrien almost reaches out to wipe it off but cats don’t groom each other unless they’re close and he’s not sure Plagg would appreciate it so he lets his hand drop back to his lap. “Think about it, Kid. Ladybug, Mothballs, they have bug minions. You’re Chat, just what do you think would happen there?” 

He thinks about it. It’s a pretty cool image actually. There’s him leading the charge, behind him a seething, roiling mass of cats, sharpened teeth and dagger pawed and his to command. For a second it seems damn awesome. But then the vision changes and it’s no longer a well-organised, military charge. It’s … well… cats; cats licking themselves, coughing up hairballs, doing zoomies and cat loaves and just not giving a flying fuck because… cats. And then there, right in the middle there’s him, waving and stomping and looking like a moron while they lick and groom and laze about paying him less attention than they would to a gnat. 

Because… cats. 

And as he’s a cat himself, he takes another bite of his protein bar and mutters petulantly, “It’d still be cool.” 

…

After breakfast he calls Nino. There’s a reason his itinerary has been kept clear all day. He’s been checking it daily for weeks now, half expecting his father to throw in a last minute photo shoot or press conference to spite him. But nope, the day has dawned and the hours are empty and today he, Nino, Alya and Marinette are going to do the Parisian tourist trails. He’s going to spend the whole day with no bodyguard, just walking the banks of the Seine and going to the viewing deck on the Eiffel tower (and no further because he’s not a superhero no sir). He’s going to shop and eat and laugh and be a regular boy for probably the first time in his life and what is taking Nino so long to answer the phone? 

It goes to answer phone and Adrien hangs up. Ten seconds later Nino is ringing him. 

“Hey Bro.” 

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Nino sounds distracted. “I know how hard you had to fight for the day off but I’m gonna have to cancel.” 

Oh. “Oh,” he says. Over on the bed, Plagg opens one eye a crack and looks at him curiously. He just blinks. 

Nino is ploughing on with his explanation and Adrien shakes off the sudden drench of disappointment which had slithered over him. “I’m so sorry, Man, I really can’t get out of it. You can check the news though, I’m totally not making it up. My mother is freaking out over it and—” 

Adrien holds up a hand to halt the conversation, while some part of his brain screams at him that Nino can’t see you, you idiot. “Woah, slow down, what’s going on?” 

“My neighbour’s daughter, well… she lives three floors below us and I don’t really know her all that well or anything—” 

“Nino.” 

“Right, right. Her daughter went missing last night. Helene Bassett. It’s all over the news. Her mother put her to bed last night at nine and she was gone this morning. All the locks were still in place on the doors, they’re not really sure what happened.” 

Adrien looks up at his computer, still on the news channel. They’re running a fluff piece right now about a surfboarding dog but there’s a breaking news ticker running across the bottom of the screen and he clicks on it. A young girl looks back at him, six years old. Brown eyed and dark curly hair. Her mouth is closed but he knows that if she was smiling one of her top teeth on the right-hand side would be missing. 

He doesn’t know how he knows this. 

He feels cold. 

Nino is still talking. 

“… My mother won’t let me out of the house. Not today at least and probably not for a while.” 

Some part of him registers himself talking, ending the conversation, hanging up the phone. He’s surprised he sounds so normal. Plagg is a silent, floating presence by his left shoulder. When Adrien looks at him he seems troubled. 

“Akuma?” Adrien asks. 

Plagg just shakes his head. 

…

He transforms anyway and spends the morning searching fruitlessly through the Paris streets. Using Nino’s apartment building as the centre, he runs a spiral formation outward, looking for anything out of the ordinary. A couple of hours in he bumps into Ladybug. He’s surprised to see her until he looks down and catches sight of Alya, filming for her Ladyblog. She must have seen him out and assumed there was an akuma. 

One quick conversation later, an even quicker wave and thumbs up to the camera and he’s off again. Behind him, Ladybug drops down to street level and pulls Alya to one side. For a second or two he can hear the low murmur of their voices, and then he’s over the next roof and it’s gone. 

Drowned out. 

… 

Helene Bassett’s face is behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes. “Why do I know her?” He asks Plagg that night lying in bed and staring up at the elusive spots of colour in his vision which dart against the darkness like slippery fish, flitting here and there through deep, still waters. The little kwami shrugs as he squirms about on his pillow, searching for the perfect spot to bed down for the night. 

“You meet a lot of people, Kid. How should I know? Maybe she’s a fan.” 

It’s a perfectly valid answer and it should be enough, but there’s something cagey in Plagg’s voice; something unsaid.

He tells himself it’s the cat in him, which makes him transform and head out to the Parisian streets again. Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t, but Adrien knows one thing for sure. 

He’s scared. 

… 

The next morning Helene is still missing and so are two more children. 

He spent the night sitting on a rooftop staring at the ground; looking at the shadows, which move and roll, like waves on some strange untouchable sea. He feels like he’s lost some time in there somewhere but can’t bring himself to care. There’s a rushing in his ears and his eyes ache. Plagg says nothing but looks at him with something near grief in his eyes. 

He leaves a desperate message for Ladybug but her reply, when it comes, is not reassuring. “You have to let the police deal with this one, Kitty. I need you for akuma. Yes we could help them, but they can’t help us. If we burn ourselves out looking for missing persons then Paris is really going to be in trouble.” 

He hauls back and throws his baton into the Seine with a roar. The Ladyblog has the moment in glorious technicolour up for all to see within ten minutes. By the end of the day it has 35K messages. He doesn’t read them. The baton reappears the next time he transforms and that’s all that matters. 

…

By the time the weekend comes the total missing is sixteen, all children or teenagers – the eldest seventeen years old. Ladybug has stopped insisting he leave it to the police and has joined him in his nightly runs. They divide the city up into sections and waste hours traversing them back and forth. They meet up to compare notes but there’s never anything to follow up. 

On Sunday night the Mayor steps up to his podium and addresses the city. 

Chat acknowledges the curfew for those under the age of eighteen. He just doesn’t obey it. 

…

Ladybug calls a meeting of the miraculous holders. Chat realises something’s gone down that he’s not aware of when he finds out that Rena, Carapace and even Queen Bee are now full-time holders. “Maybe not forever,” Ladybug tells him, “We’ll have to see. But just until ‘this’ is over.” 

This. 

It seems so inadequate a way of describing it all. 

They sit down and talk, and Chat has to admit, he feels more centred knowing that they’re all there. 

“There are thirty-five missing children reports now,” Ladybug starts. “Starting with Helene two weeks ago.” She glances at Chat but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s remembering bright brown eyes and a gapped tooth smile. “… the most recent was Christopher Lahiffe.” 

Chris is Nino’s little brother. Adrien is screaming inside him that he’s a bad friend. He hasn’t even spoken to Nino in weeks. Chat pushes him down with everything he’s got. Next to him Carapace clears his throat and Chat looks up. The other hero looks almost grey in the unforgiving LED light they’re using to illuminate their meeting. Perhaps he’s not the only one feeling the pressure. 

“All of them are within the Paris city limits.” Rena adds, giving Carapace’s hand a squeeze. “No signs of struggle. Some taken from their beds, some while out with friends. In all cases, not a sound made.” 

Chat snorts, a half-crazed little sound. Rena shoots a sharp glance at him but it fades, becomes something like Ladybug’s now almost permanent look of concern. This is the perfect place to tell them, he thinks, in a voice which sounds an awful lot like Plagg. Come on, Kid, trust them. He drops his eyes down to his lap, unable to continue meeting Rena’s gaze.

They’re moving on, talking about potential suspects, serial killers and modus operandi. He’s missing his opportunity. O’purr’ turnity. Oh God, there’s laughter in his head and he might be going crazy. 

“I can hear them,” He blurts out. The room goes quiet. His hands are shaking. 

“Kitty?”

He twists the ring around on his finger and draws in a breath which rattles his whole body. Might as well show them all how crazy you are. He looks up, meets Ladybugs gaze with his own, sees colour in his world of shadows for the first time in weeks. “I hear them,” he repeats. “I’ve heard them from the start.”

“They’re drowning.”


End file.
